


Charlie Gets Demoted

by Masterofkarate (orphan_account)



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, also starts with illiterate poems, also there's ments abt getting high, but like not really, charlie is an artist, just a cutesy story bc i'm sad, like idk what happened. they were just mean, nothing else to really warn abt i don't think, the gang is mean to charlie in this story, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Masterofkarate
Summary: The scientist discovers love poems by Charlie. That same day, Charlie has a very shitty day at the bar. The scientist feels bad about spying on Charlie's stuff, but it ends up being sweet and happy.





	Charlie Gets Demoted

_ I hav a boyfrend now _

_ And he is kind. _

_ He is onli day and lite. _

_ He is smartur thin I, _

_ But he dont mind. _

_ He is cleanur than I, _

_ But I dont mind. _

_ \------------------------------------------------ _

**_spyder_ **

_ Evan men hoom have no nite _

_ In there soles _

_ Have spyders in there 2 _

_ \------------------------------------------------- _

**_Sorry waytrez_ **

_ Luv is not fallowing _

_ Or being fallowed, _

_ Luv is noing _

_ They will be neer _

_ Wen ur readi _

_And being neer wen_ _they arr_

_ \-------------------------------------------------- _

_ Hi is no gud neer him. _

_ Mayks him sad,  _

_ Mayks me dum. _

_ Am not hi now, _

_ Y I rite so gud. _

_ U can onli rite wen u feel luv. _

_ Wen u r hi, u feel not. _

_ \----------------------------------------------------- _

_ He is like a hot playt,  _

_ Hard to heet, but cooks gud. _

_ I dont no wut I am like, _

_ But want to b sumthing kool. _

_ \----------------------------------------------------- _

**_gay luv_ **

_ He luvs me, _

_ Ses he. _

_ I luv him,  _

_ Ses I. _

_ Sownds kinda gay, _

_ But I luv him, _

_ So it ok. _

_ \---------------------------------------------------- _

  
  
  


The scientist would have  _ never  _ picked up a journal of Charlie’s and read it. He had thought about it plenty of times, just to get a glimpse into his boyfriend’s mind, to understand a little better what was going on behind the scenes, but he would have never done it. Not purposefully. 

One day, however, the scientist opened up an old notebook of his, one that he had used for the class he’d taught the previous fall. He was using it to help refine his syllabus for the upcoming fall, rediscover what had worked and what hadn’t with his last round of students. When he thumbed through the notebook, he saw writing on some of the last pages. The writing stuck out to him at a glance for several reasons. He hadn’t gotten that far in the notebook during his usage, the handwriting was clearly not his, and it was written in various writing materials he would not use (some pen, but some marker, and some crayon as well).

Some of the poems were written in neater penmanship than the scientist had ever seen Charlie use (not that he’d seen much of Charlie’s handwriting due to Charlie's insecurities about his literacy). Most, however, were written larger than the lines or on diagonal angles. In the margins and around the poems were different doodles. Some were relevant. There were abstract sketches of the scientist himself, cartoon hearts, other romantic pictures. There were also a few irrelevant drawings: rats, cats, garbage cans, and the such. 

Immediately upon discovery, the scientist knew it was personal and by reading, he was invading Charlie’s space. Still, he was captured. They were an affectionate couple, but Charlie was rarely this openly romantic. They said I love you and often complimented each other, but Charlie didn’t seem the type to abstract their romance, to create metaphors, to think of it in the context of the bigger picture. It fascinated the scientist to no end. 

He didn’t get any work done that afternoon. By the time Charlie came over (it was late afternoon), he was still in his office, staring down at the words, tracing the pictures with his fingers. The immense love he felt in his own heart was swelling. Not only did Charlie contain these feelings, but he felt them so strongly that he was compelled to write them down, an activity he knew could create frustration for Charlie under certain circumstances. Talk about flattery.

When he heard the front door open (Charlie had his own key), he quickly slammed the notebook shut and jumped to his feet. He hurried out of his office to meet his boyfriend in the living room with a smile, trying his best to not look guilty. Charlie was in a usual outfit- green army jacket, too loose jeans, and an old t-shirt. He had already kicked his shoes off, but was still standing in front of the door.

“Hey darling,” the scientist hummed. “How was work?”’

“Dude, you wouldn’t believe!” Charlie said, shaking his head furiously. “So many rats, so many rats!  And then the gang! What assholes!”

The scientist tilted his head, partially glad that his boyfriend was worked up enough to not note anything about him, partially feeling bad his boyfriend had a negatively eventful day (he never came home and said his day was dull). He hummed and said, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Charlie shook his head as he shrugged off his jacket. He let it drop to the floor and took a step forward. He then groaned, turned around, and placed it over the edge of a chair, as if he realized his rudeness and fixed it despite not wanting to. He crossed the room and dropped onto the couch. As soon as he hit the soft couch, his body went from stiff to looking boneless. Just as the scientist opened his mouth to fill the silence, Charlie said, “It was just terrible, dude.”

“What’d they do?” the scientist asked softly as he sat down on the couch right next to Charlie. When Charlie leaned in towards him, the scientist put his arm around his boyfriend. He was close to adding  _ again  _ to his question, as this was not the first time Charlie came over with complaints like this, but he knew if he attacked Charlie’s friends, Charlie often (not always) got defensive and refused to badmouth them.

“Well,” Charlie said, voice high pitched. He let out a long breath, almost a whistle, before continuing, “I come in early, right? Cause it’s thursday and I always come in early thursdays. It’s the bleaching day, nobody likes the smell of the bleach, so I do it way before we open. I don’t even get high off of it anymore, usually, but it’s gotta get done. So I bleach up the bathrooms, I clean all the floors. I even had to wipe down the bar top because apparently Dee can’t reach both sides of the bar, even though she’s got long, long arms.

So the gang comes in, after I cleaned everything. The place is spotless, well it doesn’t have any new spots. Anyway, they start yelling at me. Telling me I can’t sleep at the bar anymore, which like I get it, they don’t want me sleeping at the bar, but I didn’t! I slept here last night, but I couldn’t tell them that. Then Frank’s got to rat on me, he tells them that I didn’t sleep at our place last night, so now they all think I’m sleeping at the bar. I said I was at a friend’s house, and they all said I don’t have any friends, which is true, but like really rude.

So I’m all fired up, I’m yelling and shit, and then Dennis calms me down, tells me to bash some rats, so I do. I go down the basement. I bash a bunch of rats, more than ever before. And by the end, I’m not angry anymore. But I’m sad for some reason, you know? Like when you take hundreds of lives with your own hands and it makes you sad. 

So I go back upstairs to the bar, and I’m all sad, and they’re fighting over some bulshit, and I sit at the end of the bar, trying to see what they were fighting about. As soon as I sit down, they shut up, and all gang up on me. They were blaming something on me, I don’t even know what, and said I wasn’t allowed to have keys anymore, I’m not technically an owner or a manager. I’m  _ just  _ a janitor. Just! 

It’s just bullshit, man! Who’s gonna come in and clean on Thursdays? None of them! So what? We’re never gonna bleach the bathroom? Are we going to stop burning the trash on Tuesdays after close too? I’m  _ just  _ a janitor, but I work harder than any of those goddamn assholes!”

The scientist had been rubbing gentle circles into Charlie’s shoulder the whole time he listened, even as Charlie’s voice got louder and muscles more tense. . He tried his best to keep track of every detail, of the chain of events, without interrupting, just nodding, sometimes making soft  _ mmm _ sounds in acknowledgement. 

When Charlie’s story ended, the scientist paused for a moment, making sure Charlie was calm, and said, “That sounds like the a terrible day. I’m sorry your friends treated you like that. I’m sorry you worked so hard for them, you work harder than any of they do to keep the bar functioning, and they don’t seem to notice or appreciate it.”

“Yeah, it sucked,” Charlie grumbled, closing his eyes as he leaned into the scientist's chest, laying his head down.

“I’m sure it did,” the scientist whispered. “Especially since you didn’t do anything wrong, you were only helping them.”

“Exactly!” Charlie agreed with a huff.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” the scientist whispered. “Do you want to go take a shower, feel freshened up after working hard all day? I can make some dinner, or order takeout, or we can go out, whatever you want.”

“Okay, yeah,” Charlie said quietly. 

The scientist kissed Charlie’s temple gently. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments before Charlie finally rose. He stood up slowly, knees bending up first, his head seemed to follow directly after it, and his spine seemed to straighten last. His shoulders were dropped, as if he’d just gotten bad news. 

“I’ll go get you some fresh clothes, you hop in the shower,” the scientist said gently. Charlie didn’t answer, he just shuffled towards the bathroom.

The scientist had seen his boyfriend frustrated and angry before, he’d seen him sad as well, but he hadn’t seen him this upset over current events ever. He felt extra bad, as if he betrayed Charlie on the same day the gang chose to. 

He went to his bedroom and gathered a fresh set of clothes, Charlie’s clothes, which have slowly started finding homes in his drawers. With the clothes in hand, he walked to the bathroom, where the shower was already started. He knocked gently on the door, and heard Charlie call for him to come in.

“Hey, your clothes’ll be on the vanity, okay? Do you need anything else?” the scientist said, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the running water.

“No,” Charlie called, a little louder than necessary. 

The scientist hummed for a moment and was about to clothes the door before thinking on his feet. Proud of his thought, he asked Charlie, “Hey, I can put some music on my phone, play that while you shower, may cheer you up, huh?”

“Whatever,” Charlie called.

The scientist hummed softly and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He quickly scrolled through it, before finding the playlist of music he and Charlie had been making slowly, of music they both liked to listen to together. It was a good way to entertain both of their music tastes so that they enjoyed it when they were in the car or listening to music while cooking or cleaning. 

He went back to his office while Charlie showered. Realizing that Charlie hadn’t decided what there plans were for the night, he went online and decided to think about some avenues of things to do. Date plans, if Charlie wanted to go out and have fun, restaurants if Charlie wanted to go out just to eat, and possible new recipe ideas if Charlie wanted to eat in. He had about a thousand tabs open when Charlie walked in, music still sounding from the phone.

The scientist swiveled around in his chair. He smiled fondly as he saw Charlie. His hair was wet with his hair sticking to his forehead, his sweatpants were hanging a bit low, the t-shirt was bit big. His hips were swaying back and forth to the beat of the song, shoulders rolling along naturally. The song was one the scientist didn’t quite know, a slightly more obscure classic rock song, one that Charlie picked for the playlist and he liked enough.

“Feeling a bit better, I see?” the scientist chuckled, standing up, crossing the room.

“Dancing does that” Charlie said, sliding the phone in his boyfriend’s pocket, before holding a hand out, silently inviting the scientist to dance with him.

“I’d much rather watch, dear,” the scientist hummed, although he shuffled just a little closer to Charlie.

“That’s boring, c’mon,” Charlie said, putting his hands on the scientist’s hips. The scientist chuckled and awkwardly put his hands over his boyfriend’s shoulders. This wasn’t really a slow song, it didn’t feel right to dance in this stance to the rock beat, not that any beat was natural for him to dance to. He danced, anyway, mostly letting Charlie influence his movement. 

The two of them danced through two songs until a slightly more indie song from the scientist’s side of the playlist came on. Not only were the lyrics a little too depressing for the scientist to want to dance to, but the beat was a little extra awkward for him. The scientist kissed Charlie’s cheek and pulled away slightly to pull the cellphone out of his pocket and turn off the music. 

“You’re a much better dancer than I’d realized,” the scientist hummed. 

“You’re not too good,” Charlie answered with a grin, “But I still like dancing with you.”

“I like dancing with you more than I usually like dancing,” the scientist hummed, shifting back into the same position they were in when dancing. It was nice to be this close with Charlie. He leaned forward, resting their foreheads together. 

“It was nice,” Charlie hummed before leaning in to kiss his boyfriend lightly.

The scientist smiled warmly when Charlie pulled away from the kiss. The almost broke the embrace, but then leaned forward to peck Charlie’s lips again, before letting go again. He hummed softly after taking a shuffled step back and asked, “So, what’re we doing tonight?”

“Uh,” Charlie said, eyes looking up as he thought. “We should just stay in. I’m tired today.”

“Alright,” the scientist hummed. “Are you hungry yet? I’m kind of hungry.”

“I could eat,” Charlie hummed with a nod. 

“What’re you in the mood for?” the scientist asked.

“Actually, can I cook?” Charlie asked, smiling a little wider. “I wanna do something nice for you, you’re always so nice to me.”

“Yeah, of course,” the scientist asked, unable to keep his own smile from widening. Upon first look, Charlie seemed somewhat selfish and only worried about himself. That was not true at all. “You don’t owe me anything, though, love.”

“I know, I just want to,” Charlie said. Without another word, he turned on his heels and started walking to the kitchen. The scientist chuckled and went back to his computer. This time, he actually got to work on his lesson plans for next semester, and did not get distracted by Charlie’s poetry and art. 

A little while later, there was a knock on the frame of the office door. The door was open, but Charlie must have noticed that the scientist was hard at work. 

“All done?” the scientist asked, typing his last sentence before rising.

“Yeah, all set,” Charlie hummed.

The two men walked out to the dining room and had dinner together. It was pretty tame meal for Charlie. The first time Charlie tried to help the scientist make dinner, he was upset about his lack of ingredients (strange things, like pickled eggs, raw jelly beans, and Schuylkill River fish). The first time Charlie made dinner himself, he made a grilled Charlie (which the scientist hated, but felt too bad to tell him for weeks). Overtime, they had merged their tastes. Charlie made a more traditional dinner tonight. It was some sort of pasta dish that incorporated tuna as the protein. Not something the scientist would have made, it was actually quite good, although a bit over-flavored. 

“Wow this is great, Charlie,” the scientist hummed happily after a few bites. “Thank you for making dinner.”

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Charlie shrugged. “It taste better with cat food, but all you had was tuna, so whatever.”

“You know how I feel about eating cat food,” the scientist said, trying his best to hide his smile. Only Charlie.

“It’s not meant for us, it doesn’t have the stuff in us to make eating good for you,” Charlie groaned.

“Exactly,” the scientist said, smiling fondly. “You do have a creative mind, though. I admire that.”

“No man,” Charlie said, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand as he shook his head. “I just, I do what I got to.”

“No, really,” the scientist said firmly. “You really are very creative.”

“No, whatever. The gang says I’m not a real artist, I guess I’m not,” Charlie shrugged.

“Screw what your friends say,” the scientist said quickly. “You  _ are  _ a real artist.”

“How would you know? You haven’t seen any of my art, really.” Charlie answered.

“Well,” the scientist took in a slow breath. “Your dancing is great, your cooking is creative. That’s artistic. And you have the thought process of an artist.”

“Shut up man,” Charlie said fondly, “You’re just trying to be nice.”

“Actually, no, I think you’re a great artist,” the scientist repeated. “Charlie I have a confession.”

“What’s up, man?” Charlie asked. 

“Earlier today, I was going through an old notebook of mine for lecture notes for a class I’m teaching next semester. As I flipped through the pages, I saw some of your writing. I tried to stop myself from reading, but I did not. I’m sorry, darling, for betraying your trust. I know it was wrong,” the scientist admitted. His words were slow and soft, very different from Charlie’s when Charlie feels any emotion strongly.

“Oh,” Charlie said, smile dropping. He sighed and said, “So, you like, wanna break up with me or whatever now?”

“What?” the scientist asked quickly, jaw dropping.

“Just like, now you know how dumb I am,” Charlie answered with a shrug.

“Charlie, you are not dumb,” the scientist said firmly.

“But like, I am. I can’t write or whatever, I know my poems are stupid and didn’t make any sense,” Charlie was looking down at his plate, pushing his food around with his fork.

“Your poetry isn’t stupid,” the scientist said firmly. “I brought that up because they made me think of how creative and artistic your mind is. I love that about you.”

“But like, all the words are wrong or whatever,” Charlie mumbled.

“You have issues with spelling, yes, but I have known this. And we know some reasons you may have so much trouble with it,” the scientist was looking intently at Charlie, wishing his boyfriend would make eye contact to understand his sincerity. “But that doesn’t mean anything to me. That doesn’t make you less of an artist or a poet. The point of language is understanding. Although your words are not technically written correctly, I understood the points you were trying to make. I understood feelings you have not expressed out loud. I would say you used language exactly the way it was meant to be, even without following its conventions.”

Somewhere during that explanation, Charlie started smiling. When the scientist finished speaking, Charlie looked up at him, finally, smiling brightly. “Really? You think?”

“Yes, Charlie, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think it,” the scientist said softly. 

“Sweet,” Charlie said, grinning proudly. “I write songs too, you know.”

“You do?” the scientist asked, intrigued. “Not that I can be surprised. Your rhythm’s good, I discovered earlier, and I’ve always loved your voice when you sing.”

“I can play a keyboard too, they just make sense to me,” Charlie said with a shrug. “I dunno. I’m not good with like words and stuff, but songs make sense. And I know a lot of people write poems when they like someone, and I thought that poems aren’t too different from songs. Wanted to write you some poems.”

“That’s so sweet,” the scientist sighed softly. “You really are the sweetest man alive.”

“Naw, man. Maybe the weirdest, but…” Charlie trailed off.

As Charlie’s voice trailed off, the scientist’s voice filled in, “No, darling, you are the sweetest.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is without a doubt the most manic thing i've ever written, did it to avoid homework. wrote it and published it within a day. i am kinda sorry, cause i know it's pretty all over the place, but whatever dudes.


End file.
